


deserving

by orphan_account



Category: Old Man Logan, Wolverine (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Fluff and Angst, M/M, vague smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 22:54:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10649760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In the quiet of the night, the stillness, the empty room and the fat white moon watching from the window, Logan knows Kurt believes it. Knows with Kurt saying it, with Kurt’s undying hope and belief that there’s an essence of truth in those words—that if only for a moment he should believe it too. If only for a moment, he deserved to believe it





	deserving

**Author's Note:**

> this is un'beta'd (sorry) so if you catch mistakes please kindly let me know ;;^;; ill love you forever. also double sorry all german is taken from google translate...im a bad person

…

The smell of it sticks like tar to his memories, blood—death—the sharp bitter rust of it. Kurt had been one of the many to die by his mind controlled claws, but still his claws none the less. In his long—too long—stay on this earth he’d done many unforgivable things, felt the sickening warmth of blood and viscera spilled by his own hand, but the death of the X-men branded him, marked him like cattle. A monster—a word—a label he’d tried desperately to avoid. One Kurt spent many nights assuring him he wasn’t. Always understanding, Kurt, soft in heart and not just fur.

He’s terrified—if a simple descriptor like terrified could even begin to describe the range of his emotions—as Kurt presses closer to him, breath wet and tepid against Logan’s cheek.

“Ain’t sure I’m okay with this, Elf. I’m old enough to be your grandfather.”

Kurt chuckles softly, like chimes in the wind. Yellow eyes bright and jovial, a beckon of hope and light in the dark room, certain in himself as he speaks,  “Mein Schatz, you were always old.”

Despite his nerves—an all-encompassing fear, that one touch, one wrong move and Kurt will vanish, dissipate like sand beneath his fingers, fleeting, a cruel mirage—Logan smiles, hesitant at first before it pulls wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

“You always know what to say,” Logan laughs.

“I’m a clever man, am I not?” Kurt asserts with a grin, bringing their lips back together, all sharp teeth and hungry tongue.

He’s not weak, at least not in physical strength; emotionally he’d always been resilient. But death watched over him like a plague, stole everyone he loved and he feared—dreaded—this diseases would spread to this dimensions Kurt.

“I don’t want to lose you too,” He says as they break for air, Kurt’s two fingered hand slipping beneath his shirt to tease at the waist of his jeans.

Logan holds in a moan.

“You won’t.”

It’s a blur from after that, a mudslide of watercolor images and he’s taken with Kurt. With the feel of it. Kurt’s gentle touches drawing frantic frenzied noises from his chapped lips. Tears prick his eyes, sharp like needles and twine as Kurt takes him in hand. It’s tears of pleasure, he assures himself, severely doubting it.

 _‘You’re about as emotional as a teenage girl losing her virginity on prom night,’_ Logan groans inwardly. He’s lost too many, lost Maureen and the kids, never thought he’d feel again after them. But this wasn’t just a hook up, a quick fuck, this was Kurt, in the flesh and blood—perhaps not his Kurt but a Kurt all the same. The reality of it a heavy burden, this wasn’t betrayal, a sin, this was peace.

He didn’t deserve it.

“Shit,” He hisses, voice cracking in pleasured sorrow, he fights the tremor leeching up his spine as his cums hard against Kurt’s palm.

It’s too much.

 Too soon.

He’s undeserving.

Tossing a tired arm across his face, Logan hides his damp cheeks from Kurt’s concerned expression, the soft moonlight from the window eliminating his fur liquid silver, casting eerie shadows across Kurt’s thin frame like rabid predatory claws threatening to pull him away.

He couldn’t begin to imagine what this Kurt and Logan shared, feared it as much the past he could’ve had with his own Kurt. They’d shared something, something Logan had been too fearful to grasp, sure they’d been intimate, loving making in the danger room, quick kisses after a successful battle. But they never labeled it, never walked hands and fingers entwined to get coffee and share scone flavored lips. He regrets it as much as every breath he took, and wonders if his Kurt died with that regret too.

“Mein Schatz? Have I done something to upset you? If I pushed you too far or too soon—”

“You ain’t done nothing Kurt,” Logan breathes in deeply, Kurt’s scent like syrup and sulfur filling his lungs, calming in an odd sense,  “You’re perfect.”

There’s silence between them, the rustling shift of blankets and the light batter of wind against siding as Kurt rests a forgiving hand against Logan’s sharp elbow.

“You’ve gone soft in your old age,” Kurt says without an ounce of cruelty, all tenderness and caring.

Logan’s bones crack as his sits, furiously scrubbing at his face, stubble and facial hair rough against his palm, nothing like the silken smoothness of Kurt’s fur.

It’s too much.

All of it.

And it flows like the heavy torrent of a waterfall, cascading emotions ripping and tearing his ribs apart. He bites it back, presses his noses into the hollow of Kurt’s throat, hides in the least noticeable way, and knows he can’t truly hide from this.

Maureen. Ororo. Jean. Kurt.  They were gone once, and for some unexplainable reason he’d done something to earn them back.

He shakes with the force of it, with the strength at which Kurt holds him close.

“Es ist in ordnung.  Es ist in ordnung.” Kurt says softly, “You are okay.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to Logan’s temple, thick fingers combing through his gray hair, “You will be okay, Mein Schatz.”

In the quiet of the night, the stillness, the empty room and the fat white moon watching from the window, Logan knows Kurt believes it. Knows with Kurt saying it, with Kurt’s undying hope and belief that there’s an essence of truth in those words—that if only for a moment he should believe it too.

If only for a moment, he deserved to believe it.

…

**Author's Note:**

> first x men fic!! hope you all enjoyed. i love this ship and i love old man logan so much


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